


If You're Not Sure

by Queenie_004



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Don't copy to another site, F/M, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, JUST KISS ALREADY, Making Out, Mild Smut, POV First Person, Romantic Gestures, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28638711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenie_004/pseuds/Queenie_004
Summary: This has been sitting around since August and it felt like if there was ever a time for a little escapist fluff - the first full week of January, 2021 was it!I hope everyone is safe and healthy and I've missed you! Thanks as always for reading 🧡
Relationships: Peter Kavinsky/Lara Jean Song-Covey
Comments: 18
Kudos: 128





	If You're Not Sure

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting around since August and it felt like if there was ever a time for a little escapist fluff - the first full week of January, 2021 was it! 
> 
> I hope everyone is safe and healthy and I've missed you! Thanks as always for reading 🧡

**Prologue**

Peter Kavinsky is kissing me. It’s 4:40 on a Thursday after school and we’re on my couch in my empty house and I’m kissing him back.

I’m kissing him back _on_ my back as his body, his strong, lean, well-defined body presses into me as my hands run up over his shoulders and around his neck and his hands are on me, tentative at first but getting bolder with each kiss, with every gasp that involuntarily escapes me.

Technically I’m making out with Peter Kavinsky and I’m certain this is what Chris means when she says she “hard core made out with” Chuck Hemmings at his party last weekend because our mouths are open our tongues colliding, and when he slips one hand under my shirt, he pauses against my stomach and whispers, “this OK?” against my cheek and I nod so hard because it is extremely OK to have him touching my skin and I can feel the grin on his face as he places a kiss on my cheekbone and then moves his mouth over to my ear where he lingers for a bit, teasing his tongue along the shell before he gives my ear lobe a soft suck and a tug with his teeth and it makes me writhe.

I am writhing under Peter Kavinsky in my living room when we’re supposed to be somewhere else. We’re not even supposed to be together but we’ve ended up together and it’s all happened so quickly and… _Ohhhhhh_ …the hand on my stomach moves up and Peter’s mouth moves down and he’s placing warm wet kisses along my collar bone. In response both my hands move to his head and fingers scratch through his hair and ohmigod, I’m urging him. I’m not just touching him but actively pushing his head lower, making sure he keeps kissing more of me.

When he’s got my breasts fitted between the flat of his palm and underneath his chin, he tilts his face up to look at me. His beautiful eyes which are a color I’ve never even seen in a human before – a glorious blend of hazel and green and gold – stare right into mine with what I’m going to interpret as lust because I have never seen him look at me that way. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way Peter is looking at me right now. I feel vulnerable under that gaze but I don’t break it because all my life I’ve waited for someone to look at me like this, and never ever did I think it would be a boy I loved so much in 8th grade that I sent him a love letter detailing that adoration with particular emphasis on those stunning eyes.

“Covey?” his voice is low and his face is gorgeous and his lips are magical and I don’t even say anything, I let my instincts take over and arch my back so I’m basically thrusting my boobs right at him and he grins the slowest, sexiest smile and I think I might die watching his smugly pleased face hovering over my skin. “Well, alright then” he growls and keeps kissing lower, his hand going higher and I throw a leg over his back to pin him to me and how on earth did we even _get_ here??

* * *

**Five weeks earlier**

I’m sitting on my mat at the back of class stretching my neck and rolling my shoulders. Today has been particularly hideous with a morning argument with Kitty over lip gloss followed by a chemistry test I felt confident about when I sat down to take it, and horrified by when I handed it in; we are still sprinting in PE which I _hate_ ; and Chad Templeton crashed into me when I was walking into the cafeteria as he was pretending to catch a football and then my lunch was on the floor.

“Is this spot taken?” a voice above me says and I shake my head and barely glance over at the person asking me. Out rolls a black mat and then I hear a body hitting it and I twist my head from one side to the other trying to loosen up and that is when our eyes and mine go wide.

“Hey, Covey” Peter Kavinsky smiles at me and I cough and look away and that was incredibly uncool, so I look back at him and he’s got his knees bent and arms resting on them. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking a yoga class” he says and then looks around the room at all the people warming up and taking out their yoga blocks and bolsters and straps. “This _is_ a yoga class, right?” He raises an eyebrow at me like he’s making a joke and for some reason I forgot how cute he is.

“It is, but” I look at the clock, “don’t you play lacrosse? Aren’t you the captain? Don’t you have practice or a game or something about now?”

He leans a bit towards me and says under his breath, “you keeping tabs on me Lara Jean?” When I can’t come up with a retort he adds, “an old injury recently flared up again so coach benched me for a few weeks but told me to _stay limber_ and my mom thought this would fit the bill.”

I nod my head, “have you ever done this before?”

“Nope. Will you be my yoga buddy?”

“Your what?” I know I must make a face at him because he laughs a little, “that’s not a thing, Peter.”

“Why not? Let’s make it a thing!”

I don’t know what’s unnerving me so much about this. I had a crush on Peter years ago, but we barely speak anymore. He’s connected at the hip to Gen who is my ex best friend, so we don’t run in the same social circles. And until this moment, I probably hadn’t actively thought about him in years. But he’s sitting here right next to me with a face that is very hard to resist and so I nod and say, “fine, we can be yoga buddies” and for some reason reach out my hand like we’re signing a deal and when he grabs it, I feel just a little bit hot.

**

“Did you like it?” We’re rolling up our mats and Peter nods.

“It was harder than I thought but also, felt really good. I didn’t think I’d already feel like it was working but it’s cool. How often do you come?”

I’m pulling my hair out of its bun and brushing it out with my fingers, and he has this funny look on his face, like I’m doing something incredibly fascinating. “This class and Thursday’s and I try to make it third time but if I can’t, I do some at home with my dad.”

“Your dad does yoga? That’s so cool!” He’s got his mat resting on his shoulders with arms draped on top of it and I can see there are women all around – much older than us – appraising him with hungry eyes and it sends up a weird protective streak in me.

“You are getting a lot of attention” I say quietly, and he furrows his brow, so I tilt my head at two yoga moms who are whispering and stealing looks at him. “But I’m sure you’re used to that.”

“Why would I be used to that?” He hasn’t even looked at the women but has his eyes still on me.

“Because…you’re…you” I falter, and he laughs and looks at me expectantly. “I don’t know, Peter! You’re basically a celebrity at school so people watching you is probably nothing new.”

“We’re not at school. No one here knows anything about me. Except you, obviously” he says flirtatiously, “so why would they care about me at all?”

I shrug as if the conversation is done and swing my knapsack over my shoulder but he’s still looking at me with twinkling eyes and the smallest lift of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “What?” I finally meet his gaze again and put a hand on my hip, “you know what it is.”

“I don’t” he plays dumb, “I’m just a guy who came to do some yoga after school.”

“Ohmigod” I mutter, “stop fishing!” But I know I’m going to say it, he knows I’m going to say it, he’s manipulating this whole situation and I should be mad about it because I don’t come to yoga to flirt with Peter Kavinsky, but apparently, when you do shavasana once next to a guy you liked when you were 13-years-old and he’s standing there in a perfectly fitted tank top with soft curls falling on his forehead, you just say out loud the thing you’re thinking. “You’re very handsome. The only guys in this class are old.”

He rocks forward on his feet towards me, “you think I’m handsome?”

I groan, “I think you got the compliment you wanted and now you’re just being smug” and I turn to leave and hear behind me,

“Catch you later, yoga buddy!”

* * *

I’m closing my locker after third period on Thursday when Peter appears on the other side of the door. “Hey” he grins at me, “you want a ride later?”

I look at him, “what would I want a ride for?”

“Yoga, Covey! You said you go to the class on Thursday.”

I’m startled he remembered this and in fact I’m surprised anything that happened with us three days ago is still even a thought in his head. “Oh, um…I just take the bus usually.” I turn to head to my history class and he follows me.

“Why would you take the bus when you could ride with me?”

I look over at him, “is this a round trip offer or just to the studio?”

He rolls his eyes at me, “what kind of yoga buddy takes you to class and leaves you there after? C’mon that’s breaking the code.”

“The _code_?” I laugh, “what is this code?”

He sighs dramatically and moves to walk backwards in front of me, and because he’s Peter Kavinsky, the bodies in the hall just part down the middle so he can move without looking where he’s going without a single impediment. “Look, you’ve been doing yoga way longer than I have, I shouldn’t have to explain this to you,” I’m about to respond when he holds up a finger, “but, in the spirit of our bond, I will clarify that part of the code is you never leave a yoga buddy behind. You always got their back and are at the ready with a mat.” He’s grinning at me and his charm is irresistible.

“I think you’re getting yoga confused with war, Peter.” We’ve reached my classroom and I point to the door, “I have class.”

“Where do you want to meet? At your locker or just come to my Jeep. It’s dark blue…”

“I know what your Jeep looks like” I interrupt and the same stupidly sexy smirk he had at the end of class the other day reappears.

“How do you know that Lara Jean? I think you _are_ keeping tabs on me!”

“Oh brother” I groan.

“Is it because you think I’m handsome?”

I move past him, “I’m going to class!”

“OK! So, at my Jeep then, the one that you already know I drive!” he’s shouting into my classroom now and the two sophomore girls that sit in front of me are enthralled, “hey girls!” he gives them a little salute and they react as if they’re the daughters of the yoga moms at the studio.

**

We walk out to Peter’s Jeep after class and we’re both feeling relaxed so neither of us talk. When we reach the car, he breaks the silence, “what are you doing now?”

“Hmmm…” I feel a little dazed, “just homework then dinner.”

Opening the door for me (which he did when I got in at school and I will not lie, I love when a guy holds open a door for a girl) he says, “wanna go for coffee?” He waits for an answer as I buckle my seatbelt.

I’m about to say no because, we aren’t friends and he has a (very possessive) girlfriend and I have a test to study for. But when our eyes meet, I hear myself say, “yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

At the coffee shop he pulls out a chair for me and I blush a little because I could get used to this kind of treatment. When our drinks arrive, we quietly sip and Peter pushes the éclair he got towards me, “you first” he says, and I take a bite and make a pleased sound and hand it to him but instead of taking it from me, he leans forward and takes hold of my wrist while taking a bite from the other end. He keeps his hand there as he chews and then looks at me through long eyelashes.

“So good” he murmurs, and I swallow hard and nod. This suddenly feels very intimate and I tug my arm back and he releases my wrist.

“Where’s Gen?” I say a little too loudly and he looks surprised but then shrugs.

“I have no idea.”

“You don’t know where your girlfriend is? Does she know you’re out for coffee with her archenemy?” I can hear tightness in my voice although I’m trying to keep it light, conversational.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” He sits back and drinks from his mug like this is something I should know.

“You broke up?” he nods, “When? That doesn’t make any sense” I assert, and he shakes his head like he’s humoring me and puts his index fingers up.

“Me” he wiggles one, “Gen” he wiggles the other. Then he moves them together, “freshman year” and presses the fingertips together like they’re making out, “sophomore year” he moves them away from each other the slightest bit. “Last summer” his fingers go to opposite ends of the table. Then he puts down the one that represented Gen and keeps the other up.

“Oh,” I don’t know what to say and I don’t think I can ask a thousand questions like I want so I just say, “I’m sorry, Peter.” And my eye darts to his raised finger and I can’t help but consider that he’s still got it up because he’s making sure I know he’s single.

* * *

“I can’t make class today” Peter has come over to where I’m eating lunch with Chris and Lucas and he’s crouched down so he’s at eye level with me, “I’ve got to help my mom with something.”

“Oh, I see” I rest my chin on my hand, “so much for the code.”

He grins, “aww, man, you’re invoking the code? Shit. Can I make it up to you?”

I wave him off, “it’s a joke, Kavinsky. I think I can manage a tree pose all on my own again.”

“Sure you can, but do you really _want_ to?” He grins at me and I giggle and without looking, I know that my friends are staring at us like a binge watch. “You know you’ll miss me, Covey.”

And before I can retort he gives me a wink and nods to my friends and takes off. I pick up my banana and start to peel it.

“What…” Lucas starts,

“…the fuuuuck???” Chris finishes. “I don’t know what I just witnessed, but I suddenly want to deep throat that banana.”

“Ew!” I make a face at her, “we’re taking the same yoga class after school.”

“That answers literally _nothing_ ” Lucas sputters.

“Is it that Naked Yoga?” Chris whispers, “you know, the one where you rip each other’s clothes off and do that pose where his dick is moving in and out of you as you scream his name?”

I smack her, “stop it!” I glare at Lucas who is cracking up, “you too! I haven’t mentioned it to either of you because I knew you’d be juveniles about it like you are being _right now_.”

“You know he and my cousin are dunzo” Chris snaps a piece of my banana off and pops it in her mouth.

“I am aware, yes.”

“Ooooohh!” Lucas smacks the table, “he’s trying to get into your pants.”

“Her _yoga_ pants” Chris corrects and they high five each other as I groan. “Yup, I bet Kavinsky has caught sight of our shapely little friend here in her sexy lil’ lululemons and decided he wanted to take them right off her. With his teeth, probably.”

“Is there any point in explaining that we are just friends doing an activity together?” I offer but they shake their heads in unison.

“No, absolutely none” Lucas says so I shrug and let them tease me some more about Peter’s imaginary dirty intentions.

* * *

He pulls his car up outside my house – his initial offer to drive me to class having become a ritual without us ever discussing it: I meet him at his Jeep after school on Mondays and Thursdays, we go to yoga together, grab coffee and split a pastry afterwards then he drives me home.

I’m about to say goodbye when he says, “Hey, what would you say if I asked you out?”

I stop with my hand on the door and turn to look at him, “asked me out?” He nods, “on a date?”

“Yes, Covey” he grins, “on a date.” I open my mouth and then close it again. And he nervously clears his throat, “so, usually this is a yes or no answer but you’re making me sweat it a bit here.”

“Are you trying to win a bet?”

“A what?”

“A bet” I repeat, “you know the cute popular guy gets the quiet serious girl to go out with him to win a bet.”

Peter laughs and then stills, “Geez Lara Jean, how many teen movies do you watch, anyway? No, it’s not a bet or a dare or anything stupid like that. I want to go out with you.”

“To get back at Gen?”

“Ohmigod” he groans, “what is the matter with you? Hasn’t anyone ever asked you out before?”

I shake my head, “no, no one has.”

Peter’s expressions softens, “that’s insane. You’re funny and smart and gorgeous. There should be a line of guys asking you out for years now.”

I give him a half smile and shrug, “I’ve still never been asked out.” And his eyes narrow at me.

“I just did!”

“You asked me what I would say if you _did_ ask me out. You didn’t actually _ask_.” His face splits into a huge grin.

“Damn, you make a guy work.” He leans towards me and I swear he knows how to make those eyes to get him anything he wants. “Lara Jean Covey, can I please take you out on a date?”

I can’t keep the thrill out of my voice, “I would love to go out with you, Peter Kavinsky.”

“OK” he smiles at me, “all that work you just made me do was totally worth it.”

* * *

We’ve already had a pretty fantastic first date. Peter came to my front door and endured an inquisition from my sister and a much gentler interview with my father. He held doors and pulled my seat out at the bistro where we went for an early dinner.

At the theater we couldn’t decide what we wanted to see so we randomly picked something and a little ways into it I felt his shoulder brush mine then he whispered in my ear, “can I hold your hand?” and I felt giddy and thrilled as I reached over to take his and I could hear him expel a breath as I braided our fingers together.

When we get outside he takes both my hands in his and we stand almost pressed against one another and I am sure he is going to kiss me, the anticipation for it thundering in my body and my toes ready to push me up closer to his lips. But he looks down at me and whispers, “I wanna take you one more place tonight.” And I nod and try not to show my disappointment at not having our first kiss.

He takes me to our school and leads me through dark halls and into the gym where he asks me to wait one second before disappearing into a room. It’s dark and echoey and I’m starting to question just what I’ve agreed to when he reappears and takes my hand again, leading me into a room that has candles lit around a few mats. “What is this?” I whisper.

Peter smiles at me and for once it’s shy, not cocky or smug or sexy – “I thought the only way to end our first date was with a little bit of what brought us together. So, how about some yoga by candlelight in the team conditioning room?”

I giggle, “you broke into the school to do this for me?” and he shakes his head.

“Not officially breaking in – there are some secret perks to being a captain, even a benched one.” He brushes hair away from my cheek and runs the back of his fingers over it and I get butterflies. “But, let the record show that I would definitely break into the school for you. I’d do a lot of things for you, Lara Jean.”

There’s no mistaking the sincerity in his voice and the tender expression on his face. “Do you remember that letter I sent you?” I whisper, “when we were in middle school.”

His eyes brighten, “I’ve been reading it again since we started hanging out together.”

“While that is slightly embarrassing,” I squeeze my eyes shut then open them, “there’s a part where I say that I don’t just like you, but I really, really, like you a lot.”

He makes a soft little noise and brushes the tip of his nose against mine, “there are five reallys and you like me a _whole_ lot.” His lips hover over mine, “is that still a fair measurement of how you feel, Covey?”

I blow out the softest “yes” before I press my lips against his and melt into the most exquisite first kiss that is 10,000 times better than any I have ever fantasized about.

**

We stand there kissing for several delicious minutes and then Peter pulls away just the slightest bit, “let’s go do some yoga” he whispers and I nod even though I’m quite happy to spend the rest of our time together tonight with our lips locked.

He leads me over to the edge of the mats and I look down, “I don’t know that I’m dressed right for this.”

He shrugs and says, “me either, it’s not going to be formal yoga, just more stretching.” He pulls his sweater off and his t-shirt nearly comes along with it and I bite my tongue from suggesting he can do this shirtless, if he wants to. I definitely want him to, but I stay silent.

With our shoes kicked off we move on the mats and look at each other with grins on our faces, “I know this is kind of cheesy” he says, and I shake my head.

“It’s not. It’s romantic.” I pull him down so we’re sitting cross legged across from each other and I begin to lead our breathing patterns. The slow inhales and deep exhales start calming me down and I close my eyes and feel Peter rest his hands on my knees and I put mine on top of his and we stay that way for a bit.

I narrate some poses and we do a few together and then I stop and watch him, see how graceful he’s become in a practice that only a few weeks ago he’d never tried before. I crawl over to him and make a few gentle adjustments – my fingers lifting his hip, my palm pressing into the curve of his lower back. Each time I touch him feels more arousing than the last and he starts stopping during his transitions to kiss me.

Eventually he slides me over to my mat and he starts repeating what I was doing to him – watching my poses and running his fingers along my spine as I go into downward facing dog, coaxing my hips up to follow his touch; placing his hand taut against my stomach as I hold a lunge, whispering in my ear how to control my core; it’s not just romantic – it’s sensual and enthralling and I give up the yoga and just throw my arms around him, bury my face into his chest and feel his arms engulf me, his head resting on top of mine.

We blow out the candles and slip our shoes on and sneak back out through the gym and hallways and into Peter’s Jeep. When we get to my house, he walks me to the door and gives me a chaste kiss on the lips and when I can’t control a frustrated whimper, he lifts my chin and his expression is tender. “I really, really, really, really, really like you a whole lot” he whispers and I blush from my head to my toes.

“It’s going to be very hard to be your yoga buddy now” I say.

“Why is that? We made it up, Covey. We can make it whatever we want” he murmurs.

“So we could maybe practice here sometime? Instead of the studio – kind of like we did tonight but with all the kissing included.”

He licks his lips and nods, “I am 100% positive that is in the code.”

* * *

We did try. Honestly for at least 20 minutes. Or maybe 15. Let’s call it an even 17 minutes.

We stretched and put down mats in the family room and started our practice, worked on our breathing and not-so-accidentally only touched each other once or twice. We kissed between a few poses but each one got longer than the last until I was practically in his lap and then he was lifting me to carry me to the couch.

And now I’ve snaked a leg around his hip and am thrusting my body up into his as he teases over the rise of my breasts, his mouth skimming down as his hand under my shirt finally gets hold of my right breast and kneads it slowly, getting me used to the sensation but I already know I like every single thing he does to me. He lifts his face to check we’re still good and I nod my head and pull him into a deep kiss, loving the groan he makes into my mouth, feeling thrilled that I can make a boy feel this good – it’s like a superpower I didn’t even know I possessed and now I am eager to use it all the time. His thumb is stroking over the fabric of my bra making my body shudder in pleasure. I manage to sit up and Peter rises with me, his eyes hooded with desire his lips swollen from my kisses. “Let’s go to my room” I whisper and his eyes flicker into focus on me.

“Are you serious?” he looks over his shoulder towards the stairs. “If we go up there, we’ll have sex.”

“Yes, I want to, I want that.” I kiss him and put my hand over his on my breast and encourage him to keep feeling me up and he does, for a moment then pauses.

“Lara Jean…I think…” I nuzzle his neck and graze my teeth against his jaw and he moans and I am drunk on this power. “God, you feel so fucking good this is…more than I thought…” I start to move off the couch tugging him to follow but he stays put and shakes his head as if he’s shaking it clear and gets me to sit back down. “We need to slow down” he says and there’s a quiver to his voice I haven’t heard before.

“I’m ready” I assert, “I know it hasn’t been that long, but it doesn’t matter, I really want this, it’s OK Peter, we can go upstairs.” But he takes hold of my hands and shakes his head.

“ _I’m_ not ready.” I must look stunned because he keeps talking, “I will be, and you are tempting…so unbelievably tempting. But I like taking it slow and exploring each other, not keeping it completely innocent, obviously” he grins at me, “but, I want to earn this – earn you. Yearning can be pretty hot, right?”

I want to be upset because I want him so much right now I could cry. But I understand he is being rational, and I am not, that he’s looking at me with eyes that have a plea in them to let us grow into this and not rush through it. I whisper a yes and he pulls me into a hug. “You better fall in love with me” I mumble into his shoulder.

“Oh, that will definitely, absolutely be happening, Covey. It kinda already is.”

* * *

**Epilogue**

Peter’s mom has gone on a weekend trip with her college friends and his little brother is at their dad’s. We have two entire days of an empty house at our disposal.

It’s Saturday afternoon and we have abandoned the movie we started in the living room and moved into his bedroom. So far we still have most of our clothes on but there’s a sweet tension in the air around us that we’re both ready to take things farther than we have before.

“I have a confession to make” Peter murmurs between kisses, his fingers trailing up and down the side of my leg. “Because it feels like something is about to happen here, and I want you to know this before it does.”

My eyes snap open, “what kind of confession?” I don’t want anything to ruin this moment, to divert us from this path I’ve been eager to move forward on.

He smiles at me and presses his lips against mine, “you know that first time I came to yoga?” I nod, “that wasn’t random. I heard you went there, and I checked the roster for what class you took, and I signed up for the same one.”

“What?” I yelp, “did you even need to do yoga?”

He grins, “yes! I didn’t lie about anything, I just kind of omitted the fact that I engineered becoming your yoga buddy.”

I sit up against his pillows and he moves back but leaves his hand on my hip. “So, what does that mean?” I ask.

“What do you think it means?” He’s got his sexy little smirk going and it just makes me want him even more.

“You liked me?” He nods and moves his hand from my hip to my thigh. “You wanted to date me?” He nods again and runs his palm down to my knee and then back up to just below the snap of my jeans. “And now you’re in love with me?” I raise my eyebrows like I’m suspicious, but he sees right through me and skims his fingertips along my skin above my waistband. It feels like electricity sparkling through me and I lean my face towards his and brush my lips over his but don’t let him kiss me like he’s eager to do.

“I do love you. But I also would like to think I’ve earned you” he murmurs as he uses his other hand to wrap around my neck to keep me denying him the kiss he wants. “Have I?”

I slide my body up against his and dart the tip of my tongue over his lips and he opens his mouth to mine, “you have. Can I make my own confession?” He makes a moan of agreement. “I love you too, and I really, really, really, really, really want us to take our clothes off a whole lot.”

_If you’re not sure / baby I’m yours_

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Yours / Greyson Chance (2019)
> 
> Like all writers I crave feedback! Please share in the comments if you have any and thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! [ Hit up my inbox!](https://queenie-004.tumblr.com/)


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